Little Girl Lost
by Max452
Summary: During a stressful kidnapping case, Grissom and Sara exchange their feelings. GS shipper.
1. Default Chapter

Title: Little Girl Lost

Author: Max Tyler (a.k.a. Max452)

Email: Max_01_09@yahoo.com

Rating: PG-13

Spoilers: Butterflied, 

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Disclaimer: _I do not own any CSI people or places. They all belong to CBS Productions, Jerry Bruckheimer, and Anthony E. Zuiker. I do not make any money off this, it is strictly for entertainment only._

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Author's Note:_ This is kind of a sequel to my fic "The Butterfly Effect". You don't have to read it, but it will help make sense of things. Also, I'm taking the liberty of making up a past for Grissom, and perhaps Sara, too._

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Chapter One- Starting Over

Sometime during the night, probably around 2:30 a.m., five-year-old Madison Davenport was 

taken from her bedroom. 

Gil Grissom, alone for the moment, stared the little girl's room, his face haunted. He had a feeling that this wasn't good. 

When children are kidnapped, usually a great deal of them are abducted by one of their own parents. Non-custodial abductions, and the children usually are returned within the week.

Another is runaways, something Gil Grissom was familiar with, working in Vegas. Lots of them turned up in this lovely desert city of neon casinos. But they find that living on their own isn't easy, and return home. 

But this case... Grissom feared it was one of the last category, a Non-Family abduction, in which of these cases over three hundred disappear... and are never seen again. 

Not a word, not body... nothing. The parents don't move on, they stay haunted. Waiting for some miracle.

Grissom was conceding that this was what happened to Madison Davenport.

The girl was only five years old. He didn't think she got fed up with her parents, and decided to hit the road.

Her parents were still together, no sign of trouble in their marriage. 

He stepped inside the room, carrying his silver flightcase-like field kit, he carefully walked over to Madison's bed.

The pillow was thrown to the floor, the bedspread, which bore a redhead figure and the words, Kim Possible, emblazoned on it, were on the floor as well. Signs of a struggle?

"So what do you think?" a soft, familiar voice.

Grissom turned, Sara was standing in the doorway, wearing the same expression he was.

"It doesn't look good. Her parents are still together. She's only five, so...I'd have to say it's a Non-Family abduction." Grissom said, and as he actually said the words, his face grew even more grim.

Sara crossed her arms, and she looked at a picture on top of Madison's dresser. The little girl, hugging a golden retriever, and laughing.

"She's a beautiful little girl." Sara said quietly.

Grissom nodded. Madison was on the small side, with dark brown hair cut in a bob, and very dark blue eyes. She had a delicate bone structure, milky white skin, and bow lips.

"We'll do our best do find her Sara." Grissom felt uncomfortable around her, since their talk in her apartment. He wanted to say more, but didn't want to rush her.

He turned back to the bed, "I'll start in here."

******************************************************************************

Sara went outside and methodically began to check all of the windows and doors of the Davenport's house. Every now and then, she glanced up at Madison's room, her thoughts on Grissom.

She had been standing up there for awhile, and had seen the look on his face as he stared at Madison's bed. That lost, empty look. 

He was hurting for that little girl. 

Sara had accused him of not having feelings, because he had reprimanded her once for being too attached to a victim once.

But Grissom did feel, as he had proved first in her apartment, now here in this house. He just hid them better.

Something about children brought out fierce emotions in him. Like in the Zachary Anderson case, and this one, children being hurt or abused made Grissom angry. 

Sara finished the windows and doors, and couldn't find any evidence of them being forced open. 

On her way in to report that fact to Grissom, she passed Brass talking to a tall handsome man with black hair, supporting a hysterically sobbing woman with dark brown hair. Madison's parents, Sara thought.

She met him coming down the stairs.

"Get anything?" she asked.

"No hairs, except for the girls, I suspect. Some 'prints, though the way our luck's been, they'll probably come back the parents. Our guy knew what he was doing. What did you get?"

"No sign of forced entry. Windows and doors were all locked."

His eyes tightened, "Well, that suggests that whoever this was, had a key."

"Shall we finish the house? Then we can talk to Mr. and Mrs. Davenport about their keys." Sara suggested.

"After you."

******************************************************************************

It didn't take long to finish the rest of the Davenport's house, as large as it was, because there was nothing to find.

As Grissom had said, whoever had kidnapped Madison Davenport, they were good at what they were doing. And if they had a key, it made it easier.

When they finished, they headed outside, where Jim Brass was waiting for them. 

"Hey. Find anything?" he asked.

"No, I don't think so." Grissom said, and then told him about Sara finding no sign of forced entry.

"Ohh-kay. Well, I just finished the interview, but this changes things. Should we go talk to the Davenports again?"

"Absolutely." Sara replied.

******************************************************************************

They brought the Davenports inside, away from the flashing cameras. Meeting them, Grissom saw that Madison had inherited her mother's dark brown hair, milky white skin, and the delicate bone structure. From her father, she had been bequeathed the dark blue eyes. 

"Mr. and Mrs. Davenport? I'm Gil Grissom , and this Sara Sidle with the Las Vegas Crime Lab."

"I'm Alex Davenport...this is my wife, Miranda."

"Can you think of anyone who could've done this?" Sara asked.

Miranda Davenport shook her head, lips trembling, "No, we have no...enemies, and Madison," her breath caught, "my baby's such a sweet little girl. Why would someone want to hurt her?"

Grissom caught Miranda's hand, "Mrs. Davenport, I promise you, we will find Madison. I swear." He locked eyes with her.

Sara exchanged puzzled glances with Brass, who shrugged. They had seldom seen Grissom connect with someone like this. It was startling.

Grissom turned to Alex Davenport, "Sir, how many keys do you have to your home?"

The question obviously threw him. He stared at Grissom, "Well...three. I have one, Randy has one, and we have a spare."

Grissom nodded, "Where do you keep it? If you don't mind me asking?"

"Outside, on the front porch, in case one of forgets our key, and gets locked out. It's in one of those fake rock things...Why?"

"Because there was no sign of forced entry, sir. That means someone had a key." Sara said, fielding that question.

"Oh Jesus." Alex Davenport got to his feet, and bolted outside.

"Mr. Davenport, no!" Grissom shouted, and he lunged after the man.

Luckily, he snagged his shoulder just in time before Davenport could grab the fake rock.

"We need check it, sir." Grissom said, keeping his voice calm and level.

Alex took a deep breath, and nodded, "Okay. Sorry, I'll get out of your way."

"It's fine, sir. Go in, and sit with your wife. Could you send out Miss Sidle when you go in, and tell her to bring our kit out?"

The man nodded again, and on autopilot, he walked back into his house.

Grissom carefully examined the rock, which looked realistically enough at a casual glance, but at a closer inspection, was hard gray plastic. 

He heard the door close, and Sara's voice say, "You called?"

"Yeah, can you hand me the fingerprint brush and dust please?" He held out his hand, and she dropped the items into it.

He glanced at the color of the dust, "Ah, electric blue. Wonderful color." He then began to dust the rock thoroughly, and voila, some prints appeared.

He went about collecting them. 

"Are we done with the Davenports?" Sara asked.

"For now."

She paused, glanced around the yard. Except some cops, which were too far away to hear, they were alone.

"Grissom."

"Yeah?" 

"Why do these cases always get to you?" she asked, her voice almost inaudible.

He paused in the middle of stowing the prints, his hands frozen in place. She watched as he swallowed, fighting to regain his composure.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his voice deadly calm.

"I mean, like the Zachary Anderson case for one. No one had ever seen you blow up like that. Now, this, assuring Miranda Davenport that we'll find Madison? A promise you know that we might now be able to keep."

Grissom stared at the ground, "I want to find that little girl Sara. Safe, unharmed, bring her back to her parents."

"I know you do. So do I. But that didn't answer my question."

He wanted to scream at her. Tell her that it wasn't any of her business.

But by going to her apartment that night, and confessing his love for her, he had opened the door to his life, and let her in. So indeed, it was part of her business.

He sighed, "We're finished here. So go tell Brass and," he saw the look on her face, and interrupted, "I'll tell you on the way back to HQ."


	2. Love Never Dies

**__**

Chapter Two- Love Never Dies

They climbed into the Tahoe, Grissom driving. At first, Sara didn't think he was going to say 

anything. He just stared at the road, his whole body tense. 

Finally he parked, and he said, "I used to be married."

Sara turned in her seat, mouth agape. 

Grissom caught the expression, and smiled wryly, although there was pain there. 

"You look shocked Sara. Anyway, you're the first person to know. No one else does... Not Catherine, Brass, Warrick, anyone. Anyway, her name was Monica. Monica Nichols. We were only twenty-two when we were married. Kids, but we really loved each other. We were living in California at the time."

Grissom rubbed at his forehead, "A year and a half later, we found out Monica was pregnant. I was so happy. I had always wanted to be a father, and it looked like my dreams were coming true. Nine months later, our beautiful daughter Jessica was born. I had never been happier in my entire life, and for six years, we had the perfect family..." he trailed off, and stared into space.

Sara caught her breath.

"One night, while I was at work, I was working for the LAPD Crime Lab back then, a rookie, someone broke into _my _house, and kidnapped my daughter. My innocent little six-year-old Jessica. Someone stole her from Monica and me. The cops couldn't find anything, we never got a ransom note. Monica and I divorced six months later... and Jessie was never found."

Grissom finished this trying hard to keep the emotion from his voice, but failing desperately. 

Sara wiped the tears that had rolled down her cheeks, "Oh god Grissom. I'm so sorry."

He swallowed, and shook his head. Tipped her chin up, "Hey, why are you crying?"

"Because...life sucks." she managed.

He nodded in agreement.

"But my love for Jessie never died. Even if the bastard that took her did... kill her, she'll always be with me, even if it hurts so bad. And my way of fixing it is helping other people try to find their children before it's too late." Grissom stared out the window again.

Sara smiled at him, "That's very sweet Gil Grissom."

"Yeah? And all this time you thought I was a emotionless robot." he said jokingly.

But she did feel bad that time she said he had no emotions. Her temper had gotten the better of her that day...

"I'm sorry I said that." she said abruptly.

He frowned, "Said what?"

She fidgeted, "You know, that one time. After you reprimanded me for getting too close to the victims? And I said I wish I could be like you and have no feelings? I'm sorry, I was angry, and stupid. I'm sorry."

"That was forgotten a long time ago Sara...but did you know I envied you sometimes?"

She stared at him, incredulous, "Envied me?"

"The way you empathize with the victims, how effortlessly you do it... in a way I never can. We both can solve the crime, bring peace of mind back to their family... but only you can give them that empathy."

Sara smiled, touched. She reached out, and tentatively ran a hand down his face, watching as his eyes lit up in surprise and... what? Satisfaction.

"Looks like you're doing a pretty good job to me." she murmured.

He caught one of her hands, and grasped the other gently at the wrists, and pulled her forward.

Her dark eyes peered at him with a mixture of wonder, curiosity, want, and love.

Her lips grazed his, hesitantly at first, then harder, rougher. 

Grissom had released his grip on her wrists, and his began to roam. Hers did the same, almost of their own accord.

When the kiss finally ended, Sara stared at him, slumping a little into the passenger seat, "Uh, wow."

Grissom appeared slightly stupefied, "Well, I'd say thanks, but there was definitely lot of effort on your part."

They both were still, both breathing hard.

"We should get back to HQ." Sara said.

"Yeah. See if there's been any word on Madison." Grissom nodded, and started the Tahoe.

"Your hair's messed up...sorry." Sara finally blurted out. She had ran her fingers through it.

He gave it a glance in the mirror, and winced. 

"Hold on. I think I have a comb in my bag." Sara said, and began to dig, "Ah hah. Found it." 

Grissom pulled over, and went to work on fixing his mussed hair.

"Okay, you're good to go." Sara grinned.

He handed back the brush, and she put it back in the bag. Grissom resumed driving, and in a few minutes, they were at CSI HQ.


	3. One Step Closer

**__**

Chapter Three- One Step Closer

Catherine Willows had just returned to headquarters from processing a scene. It was an 

easy case, a no-brainer. A husband had arrived early from work to find his wife of fifteen years in bed with another man...his best friend to be exact. Enraged, the betrayed man had went to his closet where he admittedly kept a Colt. 45, and shot the lover first, then his wife. Then called the cops and told them what he had done.

Homicide and Catherine were called to the scene and everything checked out. Plus, the husband confessed. Slam-dunk case.

So she was sitting in the break room when Grissom and Sara came in.

She had just grabbed a coke, and had leaned back against the sofa when she saw them walk in. She watched, idly, not bothering to get up. She'd see them in a minute...

But wait... her sharp blue eyes narrowed and she leaned forward unconsciously.

Grissom and Sara were walking down the hallway, close together. _Very _close. Hands occasionally brushing.

Catherine frowned. This was way out of character for Grissom. He was not a touchy-feely man, he went out of the way to have his own space.

So why was he and Sara practically holding hands?

Catherine watched with interest until the two disappeared around a corner, and leaned back against the sofa. Thoughtfully, she tapped a fingernail against a tooth, thinking.

And a slow smile spread across her pretty face. 

"Hmm." she murmured and took another swallow of her coke.

It looked like Grissom and Sara were getting one step closer to a relationship.

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Sara took the trace evidence to Greg, Grissom saying he'd meet her in a minute. Then he went to Brass's office, knocked on the door.

"Yeah?"

"Heard anything?" Grissom asked, standing in the doorway...and hoped to god that his friend noticed nothing unusual.

"No. No ransom note, no call, zip, zero, 'nothin." Brass said.

"Okay. I just wanted to check in. Sara and I are going to go run some prints we found on that fake rock, and some in the girl's room."

Brass nodded, "Hope something turns up."

"You and me both."

******************************************************************************

Sara was already seated at the computer, running the prints through AFIS. Greg Sanders sat next to her, and when Grissom came in, he spun, and gave him his trademark beam.

"Hey Grissom. We have some hits from AFIS already."

He advanced until he was standing next to them, "What do you have so far?"

"Well, you found twelve prints on the rock. We've scanned three of hit, and we just got a hit on one of 'em. The others were partials, and I'll compare to thee full ones."

"Who?"

Greg's smile faded, "The father, Alexander Davenport."

"Well, remember we still haven't eliminated him as a suspect. Remember, our guy used a key...and knew exactly where it was." 

Greg nodded, and scanned another print, the computer hummed for a few minutes, then _Result Found, _spit out.

"Ohh-kay, let's see who print number four belongs to." Greg clicked with the mouse, and his shoulders slumped, "Mother's prints."

"Keep going."

Greg did, with the same results until print number eight.

"Hey, wait a second. Gris!" Greg was practically hopping in his seat.

"What is it Greg?"

"We have prints belonging to a Andrew Jonathan Davenport." Greg said, his head swiveling towards to Grissom.

"A relative to Alex Davenport? Maybe he had a legitimate reason to use the key, but it's a start. But, we'll need something else. Let's go talk to the Davenports again, particularly Alex Davenport. Ask him if he has a brother, or a relative who had reason or not to use that spare key." Grissom turned, "Finish running the rest while we're gone."


	4. Brothers Keeper

Grissom and Sara returned to the Davenport's home, which was now devoid of the cops and 

reporters. Must've found something worse to feast on, Sara thought idly as she rang the doorbell.

After a few moments, it was opened by Alex Davenport, who looked like he had been dragged through hell. His dark blue eyes were bloodshot and his black hair stood up in spikes that would've been comical in any other situation.

His face brightened as he took in the two criminalists, "Have you found Madison?"

Sara shook her head slowly, and forced back a wince as the man's face fell.

"Mr. Davenport, we were scanning the prints we found on your key holder, and a number of them were yours and your wife's, which we expected. But a set came up a Andrew Davenport. Is he related to you?" Grissom asked.

Alex Davenport sighed, "Unfortunately yes...hell that's harsh. He's my younger brother, he's spoiled. It's my fault, actually. His prints were probably on the rock because he's stayed here before...various times when he gets kicked out of his apartment, because he can't pay the rent. I'm constantly doing that, and loaning him money. But I'm more than comfortable, and he's my brother...so what are you going to do?" 

Sara nodded, "Where does your brother live? Maybe he might have an idea about this."

"On 138 West Robindale, you know, a few miles south of Mandalay Bay." 

Sara wrote down the address, "That's a nice neighborhood. Not as nice as this..." this being Eastern Charleston Boulevard, "If he constantly can't pay the rent, how does he live there?"

Alex Davenport looked guilty, "I pay the rent. My wife didn't like him in the house, so I just pay the rent for him. To get him out."

Sara nodded, "Okay. We're going to go over, and talk to your brother. Maybe he can shed some light on this."

Alex Davenport shrugged sadly, "Doubtful."

He went to shut the door, when suddenly Grissom asked, "How is Mrs. Davenport holding up?"

He shook his head, "Not well. She broke down a few hours ago, and I had to call the doctor, and he sedated her. I think-I think, she's convinced that whoever took Madi has...killed her," Alex Davenport's voice broke, "I'm sorry, I have to go now."

They both nodded, and Alex Davenport shut the door.

******************************************************************************

They drove, mostly in silence, over to 138 West Robindale. Each in deep thought.

"What do you think?" Sara finally asked.

Grissom didn't take his eyes off the road, "About what?"

"About Madison...do you think she's dead?" 

Grissom was quiet for a long moment, "There's a good chance, yes. After a child's been gone this long, with no contact from the abductor."

Sara nodded.

"Here's address." Grissom said, and he parked by the driveway. They both got out, taking in the comfortable-looking apartment.

"You'd think he'd be over with his brother." Sara remarked as they began to climb the stairs leading to the front door.

Grissom shrugged, "It sounded like Alex Davenport pays to keep his brother at arm's length. Maybe Andrew knows enough to stay away."

He knocked on the door, waited.

Finally, the door opened to reveal a man, squinting at them. He strongly resembled Alex Davenport, so Sara assumed that it was Andrew.

"Andrew Davenport?" Grissom asked.

"Yeah."

"I'm Gil Grissom, this is Sara Sidle, we're with the Las Vegas Crime Lab. We're investigating your niece's kidnapping, and we need to ask you a few questions, if that's all right."

"Sure, come in." he stepped aside to let them in.

The apartment _was _nice, but poorly kept. Grissom caught a glimpse of piles of clothes on the floor in another room, presumably Andrew's. Every appliance, desk, everything within eyesight appeared dusty.

"Mr. Davenport, we found your prints on a key holder outside your brother's house. Can you explain that?" Grissom asked, his arms crossed, blue eyes studying Andrew intently.

Andrew shrugged, yawned, "Yeah. I've stayed there before, when I've had problems with my apartment."

"Where were you around 2:30 yesterday morning?" Sara smiled at him.

He wasn't dissuaded, though by the apparently friendly smile, "What the hell? You guys think I had something to do with Madison going missing? My own niece? What a buncha assholes."

Grissom gave him a smile of his own, but it was a cold one, "Mr. Davenport, I've seen fathers who have kidnapped their own children so they could do unspeakable things to them. So don't consider yourself immune to being under suspicion."

Andrew held up his hands, "Fine, whatever."

"Where were you at 2:30 a.m.?" Sara asked again, inserting an edge into her voice.

Andrew sighed, "My girlfriend's, I stayed overnight."

"Name?" Grissom asked, his notepad ready.

"Lacie Brighton." Andrew said.

"What's her address? We'll need to talk to her, to verify your alibi."

"She's living with her sister right now... in 4238 Roby Grey Way."

"Do you have any idea where Madison might be?" Sara asked.

He shook his head, "Nah, I don't see her much. Alex and Miranda don't like me around."

They asked a few more routine questions, but Andrew Davenport didn't have any useful information.

They watched as he shut the door, hard.

"So I guess we're going to Roby Grey Way now, huh?"

******************************************************************************

Lacie Brighton was a beautiful, slender petite young woman with light blond and big eyes the color of milk chocolate.

She looked concerned when Grissom and Sara arrived, "The police? Is something wrong?"

"We're just investigating the disappearance of Madison Davenport."

"Oh...Andy's niece." Lacie shook her head, "That is so horrible. I can't imagine how her parents feel."

"Well...was Andrew with you last night?" Sara asked.

"Yeah. My sister is out of town, so..." she smiled somewhat shyly, "Um, you know."

Sara nodded knowingly, and smiled.

"Okay, thank you ma'am. That's all we needed. If you have any more information, please contact us." Grissom said.

******************************************************************************

"Greg-o! My main man, how are you doing?" Nick Stokes exclaimed as he waltzed into the DNA lab.

Greg looked up from the computer, "Whatever it is, I have one word for you. No."

"Come on Greg! I just need you to compare my suspect's DNA to the one I collected from the crime scene." Nick clasped his hands together.

Greg seemed to give it some thought, "Hmm, no."

"Grreeeg! I need this. Please," Nick's expression turned sly, "Who has the new NFL game for Playstation 2?"

Greg swallowed, "Nick..."

"And I'll throw in Cabela's Big Game Hunter to sweeten the pot." Nick offered.

Greg sighed, and threw up his hands, "Fine you win, you win. Gimme your DNA samples."

Nick was just handing them over when someone cleared their throat.

They both spun, alarmed.

Grissom was standing, silently in the doorway, his expression halfway between amused and annoyed.

"Nicky, tell me you didn't just bribe Greg here to work your DNA samples?"

Nick hung his head, ashamed, and not knowing what to say.

"And Greg, you know the procedure. The cases that came first, are processed first. Which crime scene is more current?" Grissom's tone was deliberately innocent.

"Mine." Nick said sheepishly.

"Okay then. We'll have Greg finish the prints we found at the kidnapping case, and _then _Greg can run your DNA sample," Grissom gave them both a saccharine sweet smile, "Okay?"

Cowed, they both nodded.

They both watched until he disappeared from view.

"Damn, I didn't even know he was there." Nick muttered.

Greg snorted, "Me and you both. Now beat it. I have prints to finish scanning."

******************************************************************************

"Are you almost done Greg?" Sara was perched backwards on a swivel chair.

"Pretty close." Greg replied, typing furiously, knowing that Grissom was standing right behind him, and that _he _knew if he hadn't stopped to bargain with Nick, the prints would've been finished by now.

The computer hummed for a moment, then _Results Found_ appeared on the screen.

"Bingo." Greg said.

"Whatya got?" Sara asked.

"Let's see. Hmm, a non-family member maybe. A Theresa Lopez." 

"Let me call the Davenports, and see if they know her." Sara asked, and grabbed the phone.

She waited until Alex picked up, "Mr. Davenport? Sara Sidle. No, I'm sorry, we haven't found Madison...but we may have a lead. Do you know a Theresa Lopez?"

She listened, and her face fell slightly, "Oh, okay. No, that's understandable. Yes, we'll call. Goodbye Mr. Davenport."

She hung up.

"Well?" Grissom asked, raising his eyebrows.

"It seems that Theresa Lopez is their maid. They just forgot to tell us."

"We'll still interview her. Remember the Melissa Marlow case? She was taken by her baby-sitter. Maybe this is something similar. Did you get her address?"

Sara shook her head.

"No bother. We'll have our good friend Jim look it up."


End file.
